One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.
Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life!
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
By all means use some time to be alone.